Turn Away
by Xiggypop
Summary: An eight year hospital stay battling cancer and sixteen year old Harry Potter has had enough. Ready to stop treatments after a botched surgery, the teen sets out to enjoy what little he has left of life and experience the world he's been missing out on.
1. Chapter 1

A/N: I realize that I gave away an early part of the story in the description, but it's not a big spoiler or anything. The story is going to start off leading up to the surgery in the first few chapters and then take off from there. This story starts off very AU and, truthfully, will probably continue on for the rest of the story in many ways. You may not like what I'm going to do with these characters, you may be very angry and flame me and call me an awful crack author. BUT, I don't write for you. My inspiration does not come from you, these fics are not written to please you or even for your own entertainment. I write them to express my ideas and creativity and in the end, these are almost always written for me. I want to see what I can do and very few opinions will matter other than my own when it comes to that. If you do wind up enjoying this, then I am glad I could bring some entertainment, but its intention was never meant solely for that. I want to improve as an author, but it's really been a long time since I wrote something seriously that I wanted to follow through with. So if you could kindly leave a critique in a review, I'd really appreciate it. I want to know what to work on. I write very short chapters. If I try to write longer ones, my inspiration literally dies. I'm going at my own pace. So, here it goes.

Disclaimer: I don't own any of Jo Rowling's characters that appear in this story. And I never will. I wish I did. But I don't. Sad truth is sad.

The food trays usually came around noon, loaded up with the bland and mostly gelatinous dishes the hospital prepared in advance for their regular patients. Harry James Potter, on the other hand, was not a regular patient. When the Candy Striper came stumbling through the door, loaded tray balancing precariously on one arm as the other held the door wide for the exiting nurse, the sixteen year old licked his lips in eagerness. Food. Real food. He hadn't been privy to delights of such in such a long time.

Smiling gratefully when the young girl placed the tray on the collapsible table positioned next to his bed, Harry sat up, mindful of the PICC line still positioned in his arm, and thanked the girl.

"No problem." She said, grinning and then exiting the room.

Harry removed the lid and instantly his stomach rumbled in anticipation. Mashed potatoes! The teenaged boy could have cried. He honestly couldn't remember the last time solid food was served to him and he would waste no time in digging in. The great thing about mashed potatoes was that they were easy on the throat. No real chew, easy to swallow, and if ordered so, without any harsh flavor to burn his fried taste buds. Even though there was no taste, just the knowledge that he wasn't being force fed through that damned tube was enough to devour the small portion. Sitting back against the pillows, he sighed, content with things for the time being.

Saturdays at the hospital were very slow. There weren't as many people coming in and out of the doors for appointments, unlike the weekdays when the lobby was constantly packed and the doctors all booked up. Being on the third floor, he still had to share his room with another patient, but luckily it was with an older bloke who was usually sleeping or being escorted to whatever scans and treatments they scheduled him for. Every now and again a visitor would pop up and then Harry would need to deal with the chatter and laughter that came with family visits, along with heavy sighs and moody scowls, coming from his own side of the room. It wasn't that his roommates family was bothersome or obnoxious. It was the awful feeling of knowing he himself would never get a visit like that. From what he could remember, Harry's family hated him. He wasn't sure if they'd visited him once since admitting him.

"A small price," He muttered, scowling at the bed cover, "for a lifetime of health."

That had been the bargain. Harry's Aunt and Uncle would pay for his treatments, hospital bills, and room, not out of the goodness of their hearts or even from a familial obligation. They figured, this way Harry was not in the house, they wouldn't have to worry about constantly explaining his behaviors to the neighbors, and they could continue on with their perfect, ordinary life just as it was before he had landed in it. In return, Harry got a shiny new lease on life as long the hospital could cure his cancer, which was looking pretty good nowadays. The radiation was definitely helping, but made it difficult to eat. His tongue was constantly on fire, his skin dry and burning. Talking for more than a few minutes at a time would leave him in an unbearable pain that only the morphine could soothe.

Someone knocked on the door, letting it creak open to reveal the figure of one of his doctors.

"Good afternoon, Mr. Potter." Spoke Doctor Ienzo. Harry smiled at the man.

"Hello." He said amiably.

The doctor walked to the edge of his bed, pulling out a pen from the front pocket of his coat and a small blank pad. "How are you feeling today? You're looking pretty good after radiation."

Harry nodded. "Yeah, feeling loads better. Skipping yesterday definitely paid off."

Doctor Ienzo hummed in approval. "Good, good. Now," he clicked the pen and began to write something out onto the paper, "Dr. Brown wants to set up an appointment with you for tomorrow morning to go over surgery procedures. But, you're already scheduled for Reiki Therapy. Would you be okay if we moved your session into Thursday morning instead?"

Harry frowned. He really didn't want to switch time slots. It was already so difficult to get penciled in, patient or no, with the Reiki Healer and the dark haired teen didn't fancy the idea of giving it up to go over things he wouldn't need to worry about for another month. "Can't I go later on in the day instead?" He asked, trying to keep the pleading out of his voice.

Dr. Ienzo shook his head. "It would be easier, but I'm afraid you have chemo at three pm. There wouldn't be enough time." Harry sighed but nodded his head in understanding. Really, he shouldn't be so huffy over something small like that. He should be thankful to have a surgeon that reached out to him like Doctor Brown did. Dr. Ienzo clicked his pen again.

"Thanks, Harry. It'll really help to ease you through the procedure if we start getting you ready now. Starting next week we'll be changing a few of your prescriptions and altering the dosages of others. Small increments at a time of course. We just want to see if we can get you off those brain stimulants before the surgery." Something in Harry's gut swirled. He didn't want to be taken off the stimulants! Memory of his life before the little pills was foggy, at best, and he never wanted to go back to something so crippling.

"Doctor-" He began but stopped. The doctor would know what was best for him. After all, it had been thanks to the many miracles and constant care that Doctor Ienzo had performed for him that Harry had made it this far in his life at all. With his form of cancer, he should have died a very long time ago.

"Thank you." He said instead. The doctor smiled gratefully.

"Anything for you kiddo." Ienzo said, patting Harry's leg gently. "I'm going to head up to the OICC. If you need anything, let the nurse station know and I'll get to you as soon as I can."

Harry nodded again and watched with fond eyes as the doctor left the room. Ienzo always looked out Harry. In fact, whenever the hospital administrator had wanted to switch his doctors, Ienzo had always found a way to keep the position without out much of a fuss. Harry admired the man, idolized him in a fashion that a son would his father, and it made him happy to know he had somebody looking out for him like that. Content with the knowledge and information, even while his nerves simmered in his subconscious, Harry let himself drift off into a dreamless sleep.


	2. Chapter 2

In the rare event that medication allowed room for dreams inside his head, Harry would dream of an amazing world of fantasy; something he could never imagine in waking life. Images of men and women dressed in long, multi colored cloth waving pieces of wood around, but the wood listened to them and made fantastical things happen. Once, when he was twelve and his dreams shifted from green lights and high pitched screams to the magic wielders, Harry dreamed of a very strong man that brought himself back from the dead. Harry could recall every detail of that dream and not only because it was the first fresh image he'd had that he could remember, but because it also marked the day his condition began to worsen. The dark haired boy didn't like to dwell on it. He remembered very clearly the intense pain he had been in when he awoke, the old lightening bolt scar burning like never before. Afterward, all he could ever dream about was the magic wielder, or magician as Dr. Ienzo had corrected when Harry finally confided in him about the dream, and though not all of them left Harry in pain when he woke up, most were filled with blood and torture and the piercing screams of those that the man hurt. Often, they were far worse than the burn of his scar. It was around that time that the brain stimulants had been prescribed. Harry didn't personally remember too much of his life before the pills, but from the recounts that Dr. Ienzo told him, he'd started crossing the border from reality to fantasy pretty quickly.

"_Hey Harry. How are you today buddy?"_

"_..."_

"_Harry?"_

"_..."_

"_Hey, buddy, you alright?"_

"_...Are you talking to me?"_

"_...Yeah. Yeah, I am. Everything okay?"_

"_No."_

"_What's the problem? Are your pain medicines not working again?"_

"_Those filthy muggle opiates have no effect on me either way."_

"_Wha- Harry, do you remember where you are right now? I'm going to check the line in your arm, but answer as best you can, please."_

"_I'm at my manor, you imbecile, where else would I- DON'T TOUCH ME YOU FILTHY CREATURE!"_

"_I need a nurse in here, STAT! Harry, breathe, okay. We need you to calm down so we can administer-"_

"_NO! GET YOUR HANDS OFF ME!"_

"_What's going on?"_

"_He's becoming delusional, restrain him, quickly! He may hurt himself!"_

"_WHERE'S MY WAND! I'LL KILL YOU FOR THIS!"_

"_Harry, you're okay. Trust us. Linda, just keep down another minute, the medicine should take affect."_

"_I SWEAR TO MERLIN, YOU WILL BOTH PAY FOR THIS!"_

"_Linda! I said to restrain him!"_

"_CRUCI-"_

"_Linda, thank you, hold him one more second...There we go, good as new."_

That had been the worst from what he was told. In truth, it terrified him to think that he could slip into insanity so fluidly and never be aware of it. The day after, Dr. Vashi began prescribing the brain stimulants to help speed up his brain's functionality and after that, the worst was over. The dreams slowly stopped coming, replaced by dark voids of nothing. It was rare, if ever, that his scar bothered him. Just another symptom of cancer. Or more specifically, his cancer.

Hurried footsteps and the scrapes of IV's being moved quickly across the floor woke Harry up. The first thing he was able to notice, after carefully retrieving his glasses from the side table, was that the privacy curtain had been drawn. From what he could hear, there were at least three other people on the opposite side of the room and none of them visitors. Medical jargon was bouncing back and forth between them all, most indecipherable to him but there were a few terms that Harry was able to pick up on. If what he understood was anything to go by, things were looking pretty grim for his neighbor.

It was still dark out. Harry would have to guess some time around four a.m. from the way the sky looked out his window. A window that would have only one viewer gazing out of it from now on.

He wished he could go back to sleep. He didn't want to hear this. Why, of all times, did he have to wake up now?

_'Just ignore it and it will be all over when you wake up again. Just ignore it."_ He repeated those words over and over again. Soon, he felt his eyelids becoming heavy, pushing the guilt of ignoring another man's plight to the far recesses of his mind. What was he supposed to do? Stay up all night listening to the gasping breaths, the urgent voices, the dreadfully rhythmic _beep_ of each machine as each in turn tried their damnedest to keep a sick man from dying? Thanks, but no. He'd heard enough of it over the years. But something niggled in the back of his mind, something small and light that told him it wasn't right to ignore it. It was just as he was falling back asleep that any hope of slumber shattered inside him at the sound of two simple, heavy words over the loudspeaker.

"_Code Blue ICU. Repeat; Code Blue ICU."_

And just like that. Another life snuffed out.

Harry told himself it had been inevitable. The man was-had been far worse off than he was. It really had only been a matter of time. At least he'd had someone, even if it was just a nurse, by his side. And no matter what, it would never happen to Harry. No, the surgery would see to that. Dr. Brown would be able to remove the masses and after that the mixture of radiation and chemo would clear the rest out. No, it would never be him called out on the loudspeaker. He was going to be perfectly okay one day. Even as he let the words wash over him, Harry couldn't stop the tears from falling onto the pillow. They were a silent testament, himself one of four witnesses to another death in this room. And even though Harry had been there for many others, the crushing pain was no less painful this time around.


	3. Chapter 3

A/N: I had trouble writing this chapter. I kept creating a ridiculous amount of continuity errors and had to erase whole chunks of the story to fix them. Also, I'm not very good with medical terms. While I'm able to flesh out a believable conversation, I try to avoid doctor visits as much as possible. Not so easy this chapter, or the next two for that matter. This story is also becoming increasingly difficult to write, for personal reasons, so updates will be sporadic. Apologies most sincerely.

x.x.x

Morning light filtered in through the glass. Harry blinked his eyes open and a small yawn escaped him when he arched his back and stretched. The privacy curtain was still pulled closed across the room, he noticed. More likely than not a nurse would come through to pull it open at some point, revealing sterilized tile and an empty bed. It was a cold reminder of the events from the previous night.

Time ticked by slowly. At nine o'clock a nurse wandered in and gave the dark haired teen a small smile. Harry smiled back and watched her as she changed his IV bag and administered his morphine through the tube. He accepted the three pills she handed him and swallowed them back with practiced ease. Rubber soles squeaked on the linoleum when she marched over to the machines behind his bed and began the routine check off.

Vitals; check. Steady heart beat; check. Check, check, check.

Then she did the thing Harry had been secretly dreading all morning. Grasping one end firmly, the nurse pulled aside the curtain, tugging it to the far end of the wall to reveal just what he had known it would. Nothing. Something small squirmed inside of him, but years of experience taught him to shut it out. Useless fear and negativity would do nothing for him.

"Enjoy your day Mr. Potter." She said politely as she made her way out.

Another hour passed and a program ended on the television. Another nurse came in. A new program came on and then ended after another hour.

Monotony. Routine. Daily life.

Rain pecked the windows. Harry didn't bother to look up. The weather reflected his mood all too well, as did the empty feeling that had yet to dissipate from last nights events. Cold, alone, dead. Emerald eyes flicked to the miniature calendar on his nightstand. April 14th. 28 more days of this. Closing his eyes, Harry inhaled deeply, letting the tension that had settled deep in his shoulders roll off. If he concentrated enough, he could almost feel the insanity snaking its way through him. Could he even last twenty eight more days of this? Green eyes opened again. Peering through lowered lids, looking again at the calendar, the answer came easily to him. Yes. He could survive it. If he was able to make it through eight years of tests and treatments, failed medications and miracle serums, he could certainly make it through twenty eight simple days of waiting. If he was nothing else, Harry was a fighter. An indomitable spirit resided within the frail, weakened body, something that refused to let him die and that would not let him succumb to the dark voids of his own mind. No. He could wait.

Around two o'clock Harry looked up from the overhanging television and towards the door, where a man, nearly as tall the door frame itself, had entered the room. Dr. Brown was one of the finest surgeons in the hospital but had an almost larger reputation for being later and forgetting schedules.

"Hello Harry." The man sighed in way of greeting. "Sorry about the late arrival, they've bumped your chemo back a couple hours for it. Pager fell into the coffee pot this morning, whole day's been one big mess since then."

Harry hummed, ignoring the scratch it caused his throat. "It's fine."

The doctor, who had crossed the space of the room to get a closer look at the monitors, peered over his glasses at his patient. Harry, feeling uncomfortable, avoided his eyes. "Your throat's still bothering you, I take it?" After a small nod from Harry the doctor sighed again. "We'll have to see if there's a way to fix that before the operation. We can't have the tissue overly damaged when we go in. If worst comes to worst and we can't lower your radiation levels, we'll pull treatment a week before the surgery. It should give your body just enough time to recover without the radiation's effects fading from you fully."

"How long will the surgery take, do you think?" Harry asked, turning off the TV.

"Two and a half for the first surgery and then we'll break before moving onto the second surgery, which will take around three finish. Two nurses will come to wake you up around six in the morning to take you down to the unit for preparation and the procedure will begin at 7:30 am on the dot." The man coughed awkwardly, trying to hide his chuckle at seeing Harry's jaw drop. "I understand it seems like quite a lot of work, but afterward, you will be an entirely new person Mr. Potter. You'll be a healthy strapping young man by the end of it, I assure you!"

All Harry could do was nod feebly. Five and a half hours. He could get through that easily. No problem at all.

"Well, I'd best be off. I'm sorry I haven't more time to discuss things, but I promise I'll reschedule for a better meeting once my pager's back in order. Have a good day, Harry!" Doctor Brown said and waved as he bustled out of the room, ducking his head below the frame as he left.

"Bloody hell." Harry whispered. His pillows wheezed when he fell back into them. "If the cancer doesn't get me, the bloody pain I'll be in after this will!"

Chemo was a sordid affair. People usually had two reactions to the treatment. There were some people who went through it and felt incredibly ill during and afterward and wound up loosing the contents of their stomachs in the trash. Then there were those who were completely unbothered by the treatment, even content enough to doze off as they waited for it to end. Harry was one of the latter. The hospital had a very nice unit for their chemo patients. It was large, with several small hallways each lined with three walled rooms about the size of a large cubicle. TV's were adjusted on the wall for easy viewing with a plush recliner located against the wall opposite. There was the option of drawing a curtain for privacy or leaving it open to speak with whoever passed by or decided to drop in for a visit. Doctor Ienzo always tried to stop in to chat if Harry was taking his treatment during the man's lunch break or after his shift ended. Being taken in so late in the day, there was a good chance Harry would run into him at some point so he left the curtain open and flicked on the TV after the nurse finished setting him up.

Hours passed. The world shifted on its axis imperceptibly. Eventually, Harry nodded off.

_Harry took a hesitant step forward. Dust kicked up from under his feet, making him cough as it resettled again on the floor. Adjusting his glasses, he took another step, then another, noting how each __floorboard creaked underneath. Voices were coming from somewhere deeper in the house. Craning his head around a corner, Harry could see a light on in one of the rooms. The voices were louder now, and he could tell there were several of them. Harry crept closer, making sure to step as quietly as he could on the floor._

"_My lord, please, allow me the honor of this task. I could complete it more efficiently and swiftly than any of the others, I your most loyal follower."_

"_You expect our lord to trust _you_? Hah! You should count your fortune that you're still alive after-"_

"_Silence!"_

_A chill ran down Harry's spine at the sound of the newest voice. There was something eerily familiar about it, something that struck like a chord in his heart and somehow he just knew that that man was not someone to be trifled with. The sound of screams echoed through the hall so viciously that Harry hardly had time to clasp his hands over his ears to shut it out. When it continued to go on for more than a minute, Harry stormed towards the open door, unable to listen any longer. Whoever was crying out sounded to be in unimaginable pain, blood curdling screams ripping through the walls of the house and loud enough to wake the dead. Harry wouldn't, _couldn't_ stand by and do nothing. As his feet crossed the threadbare carpet, hands, digging into the skin of his shoulders, drew him back. The last, and only, glimpse he was allowed was that of vibrant, ruby eyes before his scar exploded in pain._

"Would you like to us to page you when he wakes up Doctor?"

"No need. Just let him know I stopped by?"

"Of course. Enjoy your night."

"Thanks, you as well."

Stirring in his seat, Harry sat up, blearily wiping the sleep from his eyes. A nurse looked over at him from her position at the head station and smiled cheerfully. Harry smiled back with less enthusiasm. His fingers wandered towards his hairline, brushing back the black fringe to trace lightly the lines of the lightening bolt scar that had been a part for as long as he could remember. Even though the memories of his dream were already turning foggy, the tingling pain he could were words enough. Closing his eyes, Harry tried to recall his dream. Only, to his horror, the only vision he was able to muster up was that of a pair of cold, venomous eyes, as red as the blood that flowed through his veins, more chilling than coldest wind of a winters day. They were the eyes of his childhood nightmares, stark reminders of the disease that wound its way through him every day. Shifting in the seat, with a sigh, Harry knew sleep would not return to him as easily as it had come. _I'll have to tell Ienzo._ He thought unhappily. Hopefully, with some luck, his doctor would be able to explain things. Dreams were never supposed to come. To have two in a row, both so vivid and realistic, couldn't mean well. Hopefully, there would be an answer for him in the morning.


End file.
